


Greed

by snipershezz



Series: Kinktober 2018 [3]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Comics), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Bloodplay, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, I could've written a lot more of this, Kinktober, Kinktober 2018, Knifeplay, M/M, because damn, because that's how Ravagers roll, dom!kraglin, mild sexual violence, pushybottom!Yondu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-25 08:28:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16193819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snipershezz/pseuds/snipershezz
Summary: In which Yondu complains and Kraglin suggests a new game.





	Greed

**Author's Note:**

> Marvel 616 Yondu coming up! Shirtless, scarred up and tattooed, what more can you ask for? XD I dunno why, but most of the time when I write 616 Yondu he takes on this overly dramatic, crotchety, kid like personality, that is just - *super* fun to write. Maybe I’ve read too many fan comics :p
> 
> October 3rd - Prompt Three - Knife Play
> 
> #kinktober

The hotel room door slammed against the wall violently as Yondu stalked through it, Kraglin hot on his heels.

“Urgh! How’d people wear this shit every day?! I miss ma leathers.”

Kraglin chuckled, and kicked the door shut, watching the captain bounce as he sat down on the bed.

“These pants are scratchy, I _hate_ wearin’ a damn shirt an’ this beanie is makin’ ma implant itch! Tha only thing that’s comfortable is these boots an’ that’s ‘cause they mine!” The Centaurian grumped as he untied the laces and toed them off. “Thank fuck we done here, if I hadda wear this fuckin’ git up another day I may’a hadda gut someone.”

“There, there Cap’n.” The Hraxian commented condescendingly, as he tossed his jacket over a chair. “It’s over now.”

“Dun sass me Kraglin!” The man snarled as he pulled the shirt over his head and pitched it at his first mate.  He sighed happily and rolled his shoulders, scratching at a scar over his collarbone. “When tha crew gon’ be here ta git us?”

“First thing in tha mornin’ sir.” Kraglin replied, as he bent down to pull off his boots.

“Good. Then we c’n git off this stardamned rock an’ git tha payout.” He leaned back on his elbows with an overly dramatic sigh that made the other man roll his eyes. “What’cha reckon? We drink ourselves stupid an’ fuck ‘til I can’t walk straight?”

Kraglin made a noncommittal noise, “I were thinkin’ we try somement a lil’ different.”

Yondu’s brows pulled together, “Like what?”

The Hraxian placed a knife pointedly on the table beside him, leaning back in the chair and crossing his long legs in front of him.

The Ravager captain eyed the knife, then his first mate, “’M listenin’.”

Kraglin shrugged a shoulder, “We play a lil’ game, fuck ‘til ya can’t walk straight, _then_ we drink ourselves stupid.”

Yondu sat up and ran his tongue along his teeth with a filthy leer, “’M in.” He spread his arms in a gesture typical to his manic personality and smirked, “Where ya want me?”

The Hraxian nodded to the bed, “Lie back there, but keep yer pants on.”

“Ya say tha _sweetest_ things.” Kraglin shot him a glare and Yondu had the decency to look contrite, “A’right, a’right.” He attempted a serious look, which failed due to the smirk trying to break through, “Look, serious face.”

The other man threw up his hands with a growl, “Ya know what? Ferget I said anythin’!”

“Awww com’on darlin’. I promise I’ll be good.” He lay back, “See? Cross ma black lil’ heart.”

Kraglin stared at him for a minute, but Yondu stayed in the position, looking at him expectantly.  The Hraxian rolled his eyes and picked up the knife. As he stood, the man transformed from first mate to predator, walking slowly towards the bed. Yondu adored watching him – all lithe limbs and tightly packed control – he felt that gorgeous drop of anticipation in his guts and swallowed thickly.

Kraglin reached the side of the bed and tipped his head, smirking. He ran the flat of the blade down the side of Yondu’s face, lip drawing back to show silver. “This is one’a ma blades. It _ain’t_ blunt, so try ta keep still Yon.”

Yondu looked the man in the eyes, “This is a lotta trust ‘m givin’ ya darlin’.”

The ‘don’t stab me in the back’ part was left off, but they both knew it was there regardless.

“That trust ain’t misplaced Yon, I swear it ta ya.” He paused, tipping the knife so the edge was just shy of pressing into blue skin. “Now. Hold _still_.”

Yondu loved the purr that bled through in the taller man’s drawl, it spoke of all the sinful things he loved in life.

The Centaurian swallowed with a click, “Yes’sir.”

The Hraxian’s lip pulled back to reveal more of his sharp teeth and he chuckled deep in his throat, “Love it when ya call me that.”

The knife came away from his skin and Yondu leaned up to take off the maddingly itchy beanie.  The knife was pressed carefully to his sternum, hard enough to feel but not enough to cut. The Centaurian froze.

“Leave it.” Kraglin’s tone left no room for argument.

Yondu – being Yondu – argued anyway.

“But – ‘s _itchy_.”

“Looks cute.”

The Centaurian gave him a scathing glare, “I _ain’t_ cute.”

Kraglin rolled his eyes, “ _Leave_ it.”

Yondu pouted. “ _Fine_.”

The taller man smirked triumphantly and dragged the flat of the blade slowly down Yondu’s chest, careful to avoid catching the staples on his stomach, until the tip of the knife reached the top of the Centaurian’s jeans.

Yondu grit his teeth in order to stay still as Kraglin toyed with the waistband, “These pants really that uncomfortable Yon?”

“I only been complainin’ about tha damn things fer three days, ya know they are.”

“Want ‘em off?”

The sarcasm was thick, “Oh sure, go right ahead.”

Kraglin dragged the tip of the knife slowly down the fabric, until he reached the ankle. He picked up Yondu’s foot, pulling off the hole ridden sock and drew the flat of the blade along the sole. Yondu could feel the edge, scraping the calloused skin and fought the shiver that ran down his spine.  The Hraxian repeated the action with the other foot and Yondu could already feel his dick pressing against his boxers.

This was going to be utter torture – just – not the shitty kind – the good kind that narrowed his world down to nothing but Kraglin and that exquisite edge of pleasure/pain they played with sometimes.

The Hraxian placed his leg back down on the bed and hooked the knife into the bottom of the jeans. The tear of fabric was loud in the silent room, and Yondu watched in awe as the knife took them apart like they were butter.

Kraglin’s hand ran up the thick leg, looking up at the other man through his lashes, “’S like openin’ a present.”

Yondu rolled his eyes, then chuckled lightly, “But kinkier.”

The Hraxian snorted, then drew the knife through the other leg, leaving the older man clad in nothing but his boxers and a beanie.  Yondu’s hand snuck under the black fabric to scratch blunt nails across the skin around his implant and Kraglin rolled his eyes.

“A’right, take that off ya big baby, an’ them boxers too, ya only got one pair o’ them wit’ us an’ leather straight on yer dick ain’t no fun.”

“Yes’sir.” Yondu stated sarcastically as he complied.

He lay back down on the bed and Kraglin stared at him openly, the heat in his eyes like a gas flame.  The Hraxian straddled the older man, bringing the tip of the knife to under his chin and pushing gently so that Yondu’s throat was exposed.

“Ya know,” Kraglin remarked, “ma favourite scar is this one.” The flat of the blade ran across the Centaurian’s adam’s apple and down to collarbone, a vicious crisscross of scarring marred the area. “That were tha best bar fight I e’er been in.” Yondu was uncharacteristically silent, and Kraglin continued, “’Course scars’re hot’n’all but yer tattoos’re tha real focus ain’t they?”

The knife came down to the thick tribal lines that curled around the Centaurian’s pecks and disappeared down his sides. The Hraxian followed them with his eyes, they traveled across his ribs winding around thick hips, stopping just above his crotch.  Kraglin picked up one of Yondu’s left hand and followed the patterns from his wrist all the way up to just under his pointed ear, “There’s somement about tha way tha black ink works so well wit’ yer skin, an’ tha fact yer right arm dun have none at all. ‘S hot.”

Kraglin focused back in on the knife before looking Yondu in the eyes, “This is a’posed ta be fun, if it stops bein’ fun, ya’ll tell me, goddit?”

The Centaurian swallowed heavily and nodded.

“Le’me hear ya say it Yon.”

His voice sounded wrecked when he answered, “Yes’sir.”

Kraglin smirked, “Good.”

The tip of the blade traced carefully around the tattoo on Yondu’s peck, he hissed as he watched the blood well up around the edges.  Kraglin wasn’t cutting deep, just enough to hurt _real_ nice. His skill with knives was remarkable as Yondu watched the younger man, utterly focused on what he was doing.  He finished following the curving line and sat back to admire the bright red slice.

His eyes flicked up to Yondu’s, “You good?”

“Yeah.”

The Hraxian smirked and settled in to do Yondu’s entire left side. By the time he was done, Yondu was a moaning, writhing mess and his chest was smeared with red. Kraglin brought the knife up to his mouth and licked away some of the blood.

Yondu groaned at the sight, “Fuck, Kraglin – I need –”

Kraglin shushed him gently, “Gotta do the other side.”

The Centaurian thumped his head back against the pillow, canting his hips up to get some kind of friction because he was so hard it _hurt_ and that delicious ball of tension throbbing in his guts was starting to make him feel insane.

“Ya gotta touch me darlin’. Just fer a minute. ‘M goin’ crazy ‘ere.”

Yondu’s skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, red streaks of blood contrasting beautifully with blue flesh.  His eyes were wild and desperate, breaths even, but beginning to shudder uncontrollably. If he let the older man ride it out, it wouldn’t turn out how either of them wanted. Right now, Yondu couldn’t control his reactions, and Kraglin didn’t want to accidentally injury him. The Hraxian would’ve felt more comfortable with the whole thing had he been able to bind the older man, but – Yondu was _not_ a fan.

Kraglin placed the knife gently on the bed and ran his hands up the Centaurian’s thighs. The man bucked up underneath him, almost dislodging Kraglin completely.  He chuckled, “Easy, Yon. Le’me take tha edge off an’ then I c’n do tha other side, yeah?”

“Whatever ya fuckin’ want darlin’. Just – _shit_ – just touch me!”

The Hraxian gripped the base of Yondu’s cock with his thumb and finger, cupping the man’s balls with the other three fingers, scratching his nails back and forth over the skin.  The older man’s hips shot up and he hummed, a desperate volley of clicks in the back of his throat. Kraglin spat into his other hand settling into a rhythm, flicking his thumb over the head.

Everything in Yondu was hypersensitive, he could feel the blood throbbing in his veins, every muscle shaking uncontrollably.  The world went white, and maybe this was what dying felt like. A mess of emotions, pain and pleasure, all narrowed down to one single moment.

When his mind finally sorted itself out and he could feel his limbs again, he opened his eyes to see Kraglin smiling softly at him, the Hraxian’s pale fingers sliding across the staples in his gut.

“A’right?”

Yondu chuckled heartily, “ _Fuck_.”

“Ya need a minute?”

He took a shaky breath, “Nah. I wanna feel tha’ again.”

Kraglin snickered, “Greedy.”

Yondu gave him a toothy grin, “You know it.”

**Author's Note:**

> The concept of Hrax and Hraxian!Kraglin comes from the incredible Write_Like_An_American, who's stories I utterly adore <3 (and you should totally go read, like, all of them because they are amazing) So, as usual mad shout out and big love to them for creating it because none of my stories would exist without their ideas :)


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